


This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

by wirewrappedlily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, basically this is a fic of our favourite broken boys saving each other, i really hope they don't give Derek some meaningless fling, so i decided to write it so that she's actually evil and has enchanted him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is pretty sure that the girl sticking her tongue down Derek's throat is a succubus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Stiles is pretty sure that the girl sticking her tongue down Derek's throat is a succubus. 

In point of fact: he'd be willing to behead her to prove it, if that's what it came to. When Scott had told him that Derek had 'finally found someone', Stiles's first instinct was to have his best friend put through the IQ tests again, because no, Derek couldn't have. The skank in a short, ripped jean-skirt and sequined top? Totally not happening, no. 

"What if she's a succubus?" Stiles hisses at Scott when Derek and Her Skankitude leave the room. 

"Then she can drain him dry and he'll be out of our hair." It was 110% an accident that Stiles's hand slipped on the butcher's block, sending it bashing up into Scott's nose. Totally. 

Stiles was not and would never be the kind of person to just give up, though. If chickipoo is a succubus, he'd have to figure it out. He would figure it out. Because Derek had saved Scott, and...and Stiles got a little sick thinking about simply _letting him die_.

So, Stiles digs. He looks into her name, her family, her credit scores, her police records. He makes half-baked plans to go to San Fran to see her supposed childhood home. 

What he forgets to do is make sure that she doesn't know he's digging. He's well-acquainted with his own bedroom wall and Derek throwing him into it, so that's not particularly a surprise. Or a change. No, the change is that Derek will actually kill him now and that the evil soul-sucking bitch is using him as a puppet. 

"She has her hand up your ass, man!" Stiles tries, "Wow, fuck, I did _not_ want to think about the kinky shit you would probably be int--WAAAAAH!" Being thrown through the air with the greatest of ease would be fun if he had something other than his bedroom window and the ground below to break his fall. 

A roar that would never bode well rattles the world on its axis, and Stiles braces for the crash through glass to the ground breaking his fall--and it doesn't come. 

Derek's hand is fisted in his hoodie, talons cutting through the fabric as he pants around the full fangs, the full Alpha shift shaking through him as he tosses Stiles to the bed safely and lets it come, the wrath of the wolf directed towards the conniving bitch. "Shitshitshit…" Taking cover was a thing Stiles could do in times like these. 

Stiles only crawls out from behind his headboard when Derek takes the fight outside, rattling the window to the point where it is an absolute miracle it doesn't simply fall out. 

It turns out she was not a succubus, and Derek won't tell him what she was or how he managed to break free of the thrall. 

~

Stiles seriously has _no idea_ how he went from the gay bar to the back of some guy's car, but he knows he _does not want_. 

He tries to get control of his limbs to fight back, but he's been drugged with something, and everything is not working for him. 

The save is honestly half-expected. That it's ten drag queens doing the saving is slightly more of a surprise. They make the bastard that drugged him wish he were never born, help Stiles back fully into his clothes, and take care of him while cops and medics come. 

Derek comes roaring up in the Camaro before Stiles's dad even gets there, though; he looks murderously angry, and Stiles honestly thinks that if it weren't for the drag queens being there to witness it, Derek would simply shred the guy to itty bitty pieces. 

As it is, Yasmine straightens at his look with a smug glint in her eyes, "Sorry, man, but I already called the cops, or I'd let you." 

Derek nods curtly, eyes travelling to Stiles surrounded by glitter and fake boobs, and Stiles kind of wants to collapse and puke and be dead he feels so very tired and so entirely crappy. Derek pulls him out from the hot crowd surrounding him, and Stiles's head spins so bad puking looks like it just might happen. Derek's skin is hot and he knows it, so he presses the cool expanse of leather sleeve to the feverish back of Stiles's neck, helping him to sit on the ground and put his head between his knees. One of the girls goes to get him a bottle of water from the convenience store across the street when Derek hands her a twenty, and Stiles feels a rush of relief that makes him want to cry. "You're safe now." Derek mutters quietly.

"You're gonna be fine, darling; Prince Charming here would've come galloping to your rescue even if we hadn't." 

Stiles takes slow sips of water because Derek won't let him drink any faster, and his dad looks like he, too, would let Derek disappear with the guy, or even disappear with him himself if he could. 

When Stiles's feverish body starts to feel freezing, Derek sits beside him, and he doesn't leave until the Sheriff sends off the bastard with one of his deputies, ready to take Stiles home himself. 

The sheriff has to go back to work, will probably spend his nightshift fighting with himself not to make the bastard wish he'd never been born for the second time tonight, but when the door closes and Stiles trudges up the stairs, Derek's waiting for him on his computer chair; going so far as to gently bully him into a shower that makes him feel possibly a billion times better, having him drink more water and try for some crackers on his stomach. Derek spends the night outside Stiles's bedroom window instead of going home, and the only reason why Stiles knows that is because he falls asleep feeling safe. 

~

Stiles is pretty sure he has the plague, might start bleeding from his orifices any moment now, even--but all he wants is his mom scrubbing her fingers through his hair and singing softly to get him to go to sleep for a little while. He's starving, but he doesn't know if he can make it down the stairs to feed himself without falling down them, and his whole body hurts from shivering so much. 

He moans when a cool compress is laid over his eyes, then moans more when he's gently lifted up and a heating pad he'd forgotten they owned is slipped under his back. He knows, distantly, why his mirage smells of leather, woods, and faintly of sandalwood. He knows who it is that he has to be delusional to be helped by. It doesn't matter; it feels good. 

He drinks the hot broth when his hands are wrapped around the cup of it; his eyes still covered and relieved with the cool damp. He feels five thousand times better now, and he thanks Derek quietly as he lets himself be laid down and bundled securely up after he's full and rehydrated. Derek doesn't say a word in return, and Stiles goes to sleep listening to the even breathing of the Alpha, waking up with his fever having broken, the only evidence of what had gone on the heating pad, the compress...and the leather jacket left draped over the back of Stiles's computer chair. 

~

They don't actually know what it is that Derek's been hit with, they just know that there's something fucking _wrong_. 

Derek snarls and snaps at his Betas when they try to come close, and Scott is totally a no-go. Stiles, however, seems to be _his_ , and he will defend what's his with his very soul. 

"Not that I don't appreciate the Faye Ray quality of this, but I'd really love it if you'd be sourwolf again, Derek. I have a thing about people carrying me!" Stiles scrabbles desperately at his bare, sweaty, blood-covered shoulders, squirming. "Derek, man, please!" 

Derek only grunts, herding him out of the vet's office. Stiles takes the initiative to pull him into the Jeep, praying fervently that Derek behaves enough for Stiles to get him home. 

Weighing the likelihood of Derek letting him out of the loft now that they're in there together, Stiles takes Derek's wrist, leading him into the bathroom, not wanting Derek to kill him when he's back in his right mind for having let his sweaty, bloody self wreck his couch or his bed. "Please tell me you can shower yourself, Derek."

Derek looks at him, and Stiles knows that that look was a _no_. 

"Don't kill me." Stiles winces. 

"Not gonna." Derek shakes his head like a six-year-old. " _Stiles_." 

Hissing at the sound of Derek's moan, Stiles's fingers curl over the waist of Derek's jeans, "Can you…?" 

Derek drops his head to Stiles's shoulder, then shakes it, "You." Derek's hips twitched between his hands, "Stiles…" 

Stiles whimpers because Derek sounds so _helpless_ and needy, his hand flying up to curl in the short hairs at the back of Derek's neck, brushing his thumb under Derek's ear, "Derek, tell me what you need." 

"Jus' _you_." 

Stiles fumbles starting the shower, supporting Derek into the shower as his jeans fall to the floor. Derek's fingers don't uncurl from Stiles's clothes, though, and Derek seems mindlessly adamant that Stiles needs to be in the shower with him. "Wash off, Derek. Just wash off. I'll be right here for now." Stiles murmurs gently, touching the bottom of Derek's ribcage, where Stiles had pulled some sort of electrical _thing_ out from under Derek's skin. Derek makes a small noise, not quite pain, and Stiles is hit with the urge to touch every bit of skin he can get to, just to make sure Derek is whole. Stiles urges him under the spray, and Derek moans at the temperature of the water, closing his eyes, "What is it, Derek? What did they do to you?" 

"Wild." Derek offers after a long moment, like he can't quite reach the right words. 

"Instinct? The instinct's too strong for you to fight?" Derek nods jerkily, pushing his head back and letting the water run nearly black with blood caked in his hair. 

Stiles reaches up before a torrent of water could take the blood down into Derek's face, careful to touch with that much blood going down the drain. Derek purrs at the sensation, though; pushes into Stiles's hand like an eager cat, and Stiles can't help but touch more, his other hand coming up to rest against the bulge of Derek's bicep. 

"They had you for four days." Stiles murmurs almost too quietly for him to hear himself. Derek opens his eyes, "I called in a raid on the building they had you in--weapons. Scott and Boyd snuck me in while they helped the cops behind the scenes. Your Betas are good, Derek. The pack is good." Derek rumbles again, pleased, and Stiles fights down the urge to hug him. 

Derek follows him out of the bathroom still mostly dripping, and Stiles only figures to lead him up to his bed, that's where Stiles would want to go if he'd had the kind of week Derek had had. 

"So why were you snapping at your Betas?" Stiles asks quietly, stopping Derek from just getting into bed in order to dry him off a little more. Derek had never been shy, but this was ridiculous. All that muscle and skin was on display for everyone to see, and Stiles really doesn't want to look down, no matter what that little voice in his head is telling him. 

"You. Unclaimed, not theirs." Derek garbles out, his eyes following every move Stiles made. 

"I'm yours, not theirs." Stiles throws that off off-handedly, and then completely freezes, eyes flying wide. 

"Mine." Derek agrees. "Not theirs." 

Stiles thinks of the hug Erica gave him and Isaac lurking too close to his side for normal human boundaries, "I smell like them. I should smell like you." Derek nods jerkily, and Stiles should probably put up some sort of fight against Derek dragging him along between the sheets, but in all honesty, a nap with a werewolf who apparently has issues with sharing sounds really too good right now, and Stiles has been cuddled with in years. Derek bundles him up, grumbling at his clothes which Stiles will keep right where they are, thank you, and Stiles's last thought before sleeping is a wistful notion of how entirely _awkward_ it's going to be when Derek's in his right mind. 

As it turns out, he shouldn't have worried; they get barged in on by the hunters after they make bail, and Stiles improvises a small explosive before Derek grabs him and throws them both out of the window. Thankfully, Derek also grabbed pants, or it would have been an unspeakably awkward night when they reached Stiles's house. 

~

Scott gets kidnapped by fairies. No one is surprised. 

"They think he's my second." Derek tells them before the boss fight. "They're wrong, but it doesn't matter." 

"Boyd's your second." Stiles nods to himself. Derek, Lydia, Jackson, and Erica look at him sharply and Stiles gets the impression he was somehow wrong about that. 

They go anyway. 

The queen screams at the sight of Stiles, though, and that's just a shock if ever there was one. "AN ALPHA PAIR?!" 

"Whoa--what?" Scott looks at Erica; Erica snorts and throws one of Lydia's Molotovs at the fairies charging her, iron shrapnel going everywhere. 

Stiles grits his teeth as wave after wave of fairy starts battering towards him like he's the one with a target on his chest, and Derek _roars_ , possibly louder than he had even with Her Skankitude. Even the fairies freeze, Isaac's sub-sonic whimpering making Stiles's heart rend. He puts a hand between Isaac's shoulderblades, and Isaac pushes into his hand immediately, Lydia and Boyd going to Stiles's back like they were his wolves. Stiles starts to get the feeling he's missing something.

"Give us back the Beta, or we'll tear you apart." Stiles says, power thick in his voice. Derek rumbles in approval, mostly shifted into his Alpha form, and Stiles smirks in the middle of the mass of wolves and Lydia. 

The fairy queen roars right back, though far less impressively. 

Derek disappears after the fight, but Stiles isn't particularly surprised by that. 

~

Stiles and Derek are hanging upside down from bound ankles, back to back, in some warehouse that smells worryingly of mystery meat and Stiles can't quite remember how long it takes before brain hemorrhage in situations like these. He doesn't like his chances, to be frank. 

"I knew when you broke me through the siren's thrall." Derek tells him quietly. "The bond started then." Stiles wants to ask, but a part of him figures it'd be a moot point if Derek doesn't tell him anyway. "We aren't an Alpha pair--you haven't chosen me--but you still have the power." 

"I'm unclaimed." Stiles mutters through unmoving lips. "And your instinct was...was to…" 

"You're young, or I would've claimed you. The human in me knows you're too young for it, so the wolf was limited to keeping you close." 

Stiles's fingers twitch in the straight jacket those thrice-damned hunters had tied him up in, wanting to touch Derek, to soothe him. He leans himself back against Derek's back awkwardly instead, the swaying of the two of them tied up like this making him feel loose. The pressure in his head becomes distant, and Stiles knows he's about to pass out. "I want you, too." 

How they get out of it, Stiles doesn't need to know. All he does know is that he wakes up a few hours later in Derek's apartment, in Derek's bed, with Derek curved around him, and Isaac and Scott sacked out together in the chair at the foot of the bed. He didn't have an aneurism from hanging upside down for so long, and Derek smells suspiciously fresh in having showered, so Stiles doesn't want to know what he did to get them free, but Isaac smiles at him, patting his foot under the covers as he gently leads a still-sleeping Scott from the room. Stiles sighs as he relaxes against Derek again, pulling Derek's arm up and tucking it around his shoulders like a blanket, wrapping their fingers together so Derek can't disappear. 

Stiles needn't have worried; he wakes up again with Derek's face buried in his hair, his limbs tangled around Derek almost desperately while Derek just pets his back and hushes him. "You were having a nightmare." Derek tells him, his body completely pliant and at ease in the tangled knots of Stiles's limbs. 

"You'll protect me." Stiles grins, fingers curling against Derek's pectoral. Derek is wearing a thin white t-shirt that is probably even less substantial than his undershirts. Derek shifts him slightly, sliding until he could press his mouth to Stiles's, soft and sweet, experimentally chaste, like Derek's not even slightly sure about kissing him. Stiles opens up to it anyway, and Derek deepens it, makes it even better, until Stiles simply slides over and pulls Derek on top of him. "I did mean it. This is me, choosing you." 

Derek hides his face in Stiles's neck, breath catching on a laugh, "Brat." 

Stiles giggles, and pulls Derek's mouth back to his.


End file.
